Broadchurch Three
by HalfASlug
Summary: The wait for series three was longer than we thought.


_A/N: Inspired by lauraxxtennant and oodlyenough on tumblr._

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Ellie shuffled into the large communal room, looking for Hardy. He'd been avoiding her all morning - something he was surprisingly good at seeing as their retirement home was hardly the size of Buckingham Palace. As she scanned the room for the elusive Scotsman, one of the legs on her zimmer frame got caught on a loose bit of carpet.

"Connor!" she called, even though she already heard someone rushing up behind her. "Thought I'd told you about this."

"You did," the young man in a blue uniform admitted. He tried to help her over the threshold but she pulled her zimmer out of his reach and over the lump herself. "I'll put the call out for the workman today."

"You better. Sally could really hurt herself."

"Of course, Ellie."

She glared at him until he'd backed away to the phone by the reception desk. She nodded and he gave her a shaky smile.

With all the commotion, she had nearly forgotten why she'd gone there in the first place, until she saw the back of a skinny man in a navy jumper ambling towards the exit on the opposite side of the room.

"Get back here, Hardy!" she yelled.

He carried on as if he hadn't heard her. With a scowl she hurried after him, nearly taking out one of the nurses carrying a tea tray along the way.

"If my hip pops out chasing you again, I will throw this zimmer frame at your head!"

Luckily for her, he had to rest against the back of the sofa and she caught him up.

"What do you want, Miller?" he growled. She was always impressed that his accent got thicker as his wrinkles deepened even though he hadn't been to Scotland in nearly four decades.

"You owe me a game of bridge," she told him, jabbing him in the chest with her index finger.

"I don't like bridge."

"Tough shit."

After years of knowing each other, Hardy had learnt that when she used that tone of voice he should listen to her if he wanted an easy life. Sometimes it seemed to her that he would go out of his way to make life difficult for himself (like last year when he'd broken his ankle trying to escape the crown green bowls team's latest attempt to recruit him and then lied about it to the nursing home staff for three days so they wouldn't fuss), but over the years he'd realised that she was more persistent than most. Not to mention, she stopped putting up with his cocktail of self-pity and cynicism bullshit a long time ago.

They found a table, Hardy helping her into her chair despite her protests, and she pulled out the pack of cards from her orange cardigan pocket. As she dealt them out, she noticed that Hardy's still sharp eyes were constantly flicking to something over her shoulder.

"What?" she asked quietly.

He blinked. "What?"

"Don't _what_ me!"

He glared at her and she took the hint to keep quiet, though she did her best to give him a death stare of her own to make sure he knew she didn't appreciate being told to shush. Ellie dealt a few more cards and watched as Hardy looked significantly off to the right. Once the game was set, she glanced over to what was holding his attention. She was surprised to see Tim, one of the residents that got on with everyone - except Hardy, of course, who only spoke to her when he found himself in one of his rare sociable moods - searching for something to read from one of the bookshelves.

"What about him?" Ellie asked, barely moving her lips.

"He's got crumbs on his jumper."

"Can't be him," she sighed. "He was eating a sandwich when I came in. Besides, he was with me when the last packet went missing."

Hardy took his latest theory as to who could be the Great Biscuit Thief being disproved better than Ellie expected. There was only one swear word and he didn't even chuck his cards anywhere. Maybe he was finally maturing?

"Since when have you and _Tim_ been so pally?" he muttered, eyeing his cards.

Or maybe not.

"He was showing me pictures of his granddaughter's wedding dress because I'd asked to see them," she replied scathingly.

"Right."

"Then we had a quick shag in the nurses' cupboard."

Though she couldn't quite make out his grumbled response, Ellie giggled at how his freckles stood out when he blushed. Even with his hair a light grey and seventy solid years of scowling taking its toll on his forehead, he was still adorable sometimes.

"Do you still reckon it's Karen?" she asked when he looked like he might answer.

"Nah, she's got an alibi." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Jen the cleaner saw her having a fag out of the TV room window."

"Shit."

Before Hardy could come up with another suspect, Ellie noticed a woollen blob scurrying into the room behind Hardy. On closer inspection she saw that under the several layers of cardigans and jumpers in vastly contrasting colours, was another one of the residents and she grinned.

"Aww, it's your number one fan!" she told Hardy.

His face turned the same shade as her porridge from breakfast. "Oh - no - Miller, stop her!" he hissed.

She smiled wickedly. "Hi, Pam!"

Pam heard her and her beady eyes instantly found Hardy through his brilliant hiding strategy of covering his face with his hands. Without a second glance at Ellie, she hurried over, bringing with her the smell of overcooked vegetables.

With surprising strength, Pam pulled on the arm of Hardy's jumper, nearly sending him crashing to the floor. It was hard to keep a straight face at just how wide his eyes had gone. When Pam started grunting at him, he stood up and followed her to the corner of the room. As he left, Ellie smiled and waved at him.

She watched with amusement as Pam yanked Hardy's face closer to hers so she could whisper to him. Apart from her family, he was the only person she'd speak to, including the nurses. It annoyed Hardy no end, especially when the nursing staff enlisted him to help them with her sometimes when he'd rather be left to stare out of his window and mope in peace.

Ellie was disappointed when Hardy's face broke out into a rare smile and he limped back to her, leaving Pam looking devastated. She'd been composing a sonnet about Pam's love for him and it was only half-written. Briefly she wondered if it was breaking out the limerick he'd responded so well to last week, but he was already speaking to her.

"We've got them, Miller!"

"What?"

"I've had Smelly Pam on surveillance-"

"You can't-"

"-she saw Derek in the kitchen yesterday. Ha gave her a biscuit to leave her alone."

Judging by the look of triumph on his face, there was no way he had any doubts about Pam's testimony.

"No! A Hobnob?"

"Right in one."

"Derek?" she whispered and Hardy nodded. "My chocolate Hobnobs. That _bastard_ …"

Ellie threw her cards onto the table and reached for her zimmer frame, but Hardy grabbed her hand to stop her.

"How about I beat him up for you later, El?" he offered.

She pouted. "After bridge?"

A muscle twitched in Hardy's jaw, but he eventually nodded though it looked far more painful than any beating Derek was likely to receive that afternoon. In fact, it was probably best that she reported the theft to one of the carers before Hardy confronted Derek and had his dentures broken for his troubles.

"I love you," she smiled, patting his hand as she settled back into her chair. He tried to look annoyed, but she caught the corner of his mouth twitching.

Their days of chasing down killers may have been long behind them, but the Former Detectives Club was still a slightly arthritic force to be reckoned with.

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 _Thanks for reading!_


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